Chicken and Dumplins
By Jane-Ann Heitmueller
"Hey Mother, I'm standing in the kitchen in a puddle of water." "UH, oh", I replied. "Is the new refrigerator leaking?" "Nope", " Kathy's water has just broken and we're headed to the hospital." It was May 29, 2003 and I, as well, was in our own kitchen at Mulberry Farm, some 200 miles away; swaddled in an apron, hands white with flour, rolling out dough to make a pot of chicken and dumplins for supper. And so it was that we learned of your exciting arrival, just one month ago today…so happy birthday to you, our brand new granddaughter! How strange it is that although we don't really know you, the love affair has already begun. Actually, it truly began when, in November, your Mommy and Daddy surprised us with the sonogram of your beginning.
Because your Daddy assured us that the three and a half hour trip would give us ample time to arrive before you officially entered this planet, I continued to stir the dumplins and mentally plan what one packs for the birth of her very first granddaughter. Common sense abruptly kicked in saying, "Lady, who cares what the grandmother wears, just pack something decent and hit the road." Suddenly your daddy, calm as a cucumber, was calling again. " You may not make it on time. The doctor said we would give it one more hour and if the baby hasn't come he will do a c-section."
Hurriedly, I rushed up both the packing and the dumplins and leaving your Uncle Fred in charge of the four dogs, three cats, twelve cows and "Bucky", the new baby calf on a bottle, your Grosspapa and Grammy struck out, just before midnight, on the adventure of our lives to meet and greet YOU!
I wondered just what thoughts swirled through your Grosspapa's mind as we streaked eastward. My own thoughts drifted to the excitement that must have been felt by the shepherds and wise men those many years ago, as they too, traveled to joyously welcome a new born babe. My mental video camera was racing as wildly as were we. I must record every precious morsel of this memorable journey along a black ribbon of highway, encased in our black velvet compartment, winding our way to your birthplace. As we scurried through the dark night I thought…how perfect…much like the midnight ride of Paul Revere…she's coming, she's coming!
We didn't talk much, each of us immersed in his own private thoughts and concerns. Silently, we both send heartfelt prayers on behalf of you and your mommy as the two of you traveled on your own journey. How quickly the past nine months had flown by and how proud, thankful and excited your parents were that all of their dreams, plans and hopes of your being were suddenly dangling on the precipice of reality! It was only in the quietness of that ride that the true realization of you, a living, breathing person, a part of your Mommy, Daddy, Aunt Terri, Uncle Fred, Grandpa Tom, Oma, Grosspapa , Grammy and a host of ancestors yet past, was really to be…
Thank you dear Lord, for your precious gift, which we are all about to receive.
Love and hugs,
Grammy